


The Moments in Our Lives Leading Up 'Til Now.

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [61]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Wedding Planning, and one itty bitty fight because it makes sense to have it, and tie ins with other fics, but yeah fluff, lots and lots of fluff, sorry if some of this seems underdone or lazy i'm just hella tired oops, sorry not sorry but also sorry, the women's fashion industry is sadistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: A series of snapshots of the journey you and Piotr go through while planning your wedding.(The start of this is set after "Planning Pains," and then it just goes through everything after that fic (timeline wise, not necessarily how I've posted everything until after the ending of "You Can Always Go Back Home" and a little bit after that even.)[Warnings in the tags, but some of it is a little to hard to put in a tag, so just to be clear here: this fic does tie in with "The Literal Crack Fic" and "You Can Always Go Back Home," both of which deal with some heavy angst, including drug use, abuse, kidnapping, and the like. Obviously, there's not any explicit takeaways from those fics, but just be warned that some of it is referenced in this fic.]





	The Moments in Our Lives Leading Up 'Til Now.

The ceremony and reception venue are easy –you both want the wedding to be at Xavier’s, Charles is more than happy to host it, and that takes care of that.

It also settles when the wedding is going to be. The only time the Institute can pull off hosting an event like that is in the summer.

“Man, I don’t know why I was freaking out so badly,” you remark as Piotr pencils in a specific date in an email to Charles. “This is easy.”

Famous.

Last.

Words.

* * *

Little did you know, there’s a lot of financial work that goes into planning a wedding.

The venue is free –and Charles is an ordained minister who does wedding ceremonies for mutants and other minorities, so that takes care of that fee, too.

Everything else, however…

Well, everything else _would_ be easy if _someone_ weren’t such a _stickler_ for the rules.

“Babe, I’ve got more than enough money in my accounts to give us the wedding we want,” you argue as Piotr tallies up various figures on a piece of paper. “My uncle and Wade have me pretty well set up. There’s no need to do all this… stressing.”

Piotr purses his lips, looking downright annoyed. “I do not want dirty money funding my wedding.”

You do a double take and raise your eyebrows at him. “Excuse me?”

“It is principle.”

“Right. Are you just going to get rid of every gift I’ve ever bought for you on principle, too?”

You can almost see his hackles go up. “It is _not_ same thing.”

“It so is!” you exclaim. “The money isn’t any less ‘dirty’ based on what event it’s funding!”

“So you do not object to concept of ‘murder money’ funding our wedding?”

You shrug. “I mean… if your mom sends any money to help—”

“Do _not_.” Piotr whirls around in his seat so fast it almost scares you. “My mother had _no choice_ in course of her life!”

“Yeah, well, neither did my uncle!” you retort. “And this is _my_ wedding too, which means I’m paying for at least _some_ of it. So, either way, my ‘dirty,’ ‘infected’ money is going to be all up in our big day. If you didn’t want that, maybe you should’ve thought of that before proposing to me!”

Piotr recoils, almost as though you’d slapped him.

Your mouth hangs open, and for a long moment you wish you could physically suck your words back into your body because, truth or not, there was no need to say _that_.

Piotr swallows hard, sets his pencil down, and gets up. “I am going for walk. I wish to be alone.”

You purse your lips together and pinch the bridge of your nose as he walks out of your bedroom, closing the door after him. _Dammit, Y/N. You and your big mouth_.

* * *

You wake up to someone gently peeling your face off a wooden surface.

You gasp and jerk upright, sending several papers flying in the process. “I’m awake!”

Piotr chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Easy, _myshka_. It is just me. What…” He carefully picks up one of the pieces of paper, which is covered in rows of failed equations. “What is all this?”

“I grade essays, not math tests,” you groan as you rub your neck.

He kneels next to your chair, looking over all your hard work with an awed expression on his face. “Did you… How long did you do all this?”

“I dunno,” you mumble as you rub at your face. “A long time. Like I said, I’m not good at math.”

“You tried to figure out how to make wedding work on smaller budget,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.” You sigh heavily. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I… I stand by it,” you admit. “But I didn’t say it kindly, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Piotr kisses the back of your hand gently. “Thank you. And, in all honesty, I was not nice either. I am very sorry, _moya lyubov’_.”

“It’s okay, babe,” you murmur as you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Look, we _can_ do this on a smaller budget. It’s doable.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “But?”

You sigh. “Honestly… I don’t want to just not chip in on the wedding. But I can’t control where my money’s coming from. And… I don’t want a small wedding. Like, smaller guest list is fine, but I want a fucking blowout. After everything I went through growing up, I want a wedding with all the frills. I want something to look back on and go ‘fuck you, mom and pops, not only did I get married, but I did it in _fucking style_!’”

Piotr chuckles, the nods. “Alright. ‘Frilly blowout’ it is.”

You blink at him, stunned. “Wait, really?”

“_Da_. I am certain.”

“But… the money thing…”

“I thought about what you said while I went on walk,” he explains, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “And… you are right. I _did_ know about your connections well before I proposed, and none of that changed my intentions or desires. And I cannot –should not—punish you for something you cannot control.”

You lean against his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. “You’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“I am. I had to think it over, but I am.”

“Cool.” You sling your arms around his neck and press a loud, messy kiss against his cheek. “Let’s do this thing, baby. Let’s have a super pretty wedding.”

He chuckles and turns his head so he can kiss you back. “Sounds like plan, _dorogoy_.”

* * *

Things come to a temporary halt when you accidentally fall into the cocaine vat.

“I’ve ruined it,” you lament to Piotr one night while you’re still in the hospital. “We’re supposed to be planning our wedding!”

“Easy, _myshka_,” Piotr murmurs while kissing your forehead. “Wedding things will still be there when this is done. Your only priority for now is to rest.”

You frown –then giggle happily when he kisses your pouting lips. 

It’s hard to stay upset with the world’s literal best fiancé by your side.

* * *

You wake up to the sound of Piotr gently crooning your name and the smell of chocolate chip pancakes.

He brushes your hair away from your face, trailing little kisses from your cheek to your temple. “_Dobroye utro, myshka_.”

“You were wise to come with food,” you grumble into your pillowcase. The withdrawals are still hitting you hard, meaning that exhaustion is basically your twenty-four-seven existence right now.

“I thought as much.” He helps you sit up, gets the plate situated in your lap, then sits next to you on the bed. “So, I thought we could talk about catering options—”

You whine. “Baby, _I told you_, I’m too fucking tired to plan _anything_—”

“Easy, easy,” Piotr soothes you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “I took liberty of booking Grant for reception catering. I figured you would not be opposed since you had already had his food?”

You blink rapidly. “Uh… I mean, I’m not, but I wanted to help with the menu…”

“I know –which is why I only booked Grant for the date, not with menu,” Piotr explains. “I let him know you had some health problems, and he said since I reached out early enough I could send him final menu later. Then he sent me list of catering options to choose from. I thought we could make menu few items at a time, so you do not get overwhelmed. Does that sound good?”

And, well, it does.

“Okay,” you agree tiredly. “Just… not right now. I just want to eat breakfast.”

Piotr chuckles and nods. “Fair enough.”

* * *

“Look,” you say, grinning tiredly as Piotr falls onto his side whilst laughing. “Give me _one_ good reason we can’t have chili bacon cheese fries as a side at our wedding!”

“They are disgusting!” Piotr exclaims.

“Blasphemy. How dare you.”

“They are messy,” he continues, ticking off each point on his fingers. “They would be difficult to make for catered event, and they are _not_ on menu offered by Grant.”

“Dammit,” you whisper as you cross the item in question of your list of menu ideas. “Why do you always have to be right?”

Piotr just chuckles, then takes your hand in his and kisses your palm. “Please tell me that not all your ideas are fast food related.”

“I actually picked items from the catering menu, _thank you very much_. Although—” You look over the guest list again. “How many people do we have to invite again?”

Piotr frowns quizzically. “It… it is not ‘have to’ thing. We can invite as many or few as we wish. Why?”

“Because I want to have the cake to myself.”

Piotr snorts and shakes his head. “I do not think that is entirely possible, but we will make sure you get plenty of cake, _myshka_.”

“Okay, but like, how much cake?”

“As much as your heart desires,” he says as he leans over to kiss you.

You smile into the kiss. “Sounds perfect.”

* * *

The pictures in the magazine are taunting you. And if they aren’t, the captions definitely are.

You chuck the flower order magazine off the bed and roll over to take a nap. _I’m too tired to deal with this_.

* * *

The groom’s and groomsmen’s suits go easily enough. There’s only a few places Piotr orders clothes from, and they provide formal suit options, so it’s just a matter of getting measurements from everyone –and finding a women’s suit for Ellie, since she’s standing up as his “best man”—and scheduling a date for a fitting to make sure nothing needs to be altered.

Finding bridesmaid’s dresses –especially since Wade is your “maid of honor”—though, let alone a wedding dress…

“Honestly!” you snap as you shove your laptop away from you, disgusted. “What even are these sizes?”

“Shop in store,” Kitty says as she leans over the back of the couch so she can peer at the screen over your shoulder. “Considering you’re not familiar with industry or international sizing, it’s not worth the hassle to shop online. That, and you’ll have a better idea of how it looks on you.”

You nod slowly as you mull the suggestion over. “That’s… that’s a good idea.”

“Well, duh,” Kitty says as she twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “Oh, and take Neena with you. The part of the fashion industry that makes clothing for women is absolutely sadistic; you’ll need all the luck you can get.”

You exchange a fist bump with the teen. “Absolutely.”

* * *

You stare at your laptop screen, switching from tab to tab almost mindlessly, rhythmically. Your eyes aren’t even processing what’s on the screen at this point; it’s just a wash of colors and shapes and styles…

You inhale suddenly and close your laptop, quickly setting it away from you.

Flower choices can wait until another day.

* * *

“I don’t care.”

“_Myshka_—”

“I literally don’t care!” You flop face first onto your bed, sending invitation samples flying. “I’m totally apathetic! Just pick something you like and I’ll go with it! You’ve got good taste, I trust you!”

Piotr presses his fist against his mouth to hide an endeared smile. “This is your wedding as well, _moya lyubov’_. You should have say in invitation style.”

You give him an unamused, exhausted look. “Babe. I’m beat. _You’re_ picking the invitations.”

He laughs at that, conceding with a nod as he leans over and kisses you. “As you insist, _myshka_.”

* * *

Shopping, admittedly, has never been your strong suit. You feel like you have a decent sense of style, but trying on garment after garment after garment just gets exhausting and makes your eyes cross after a bit.

You blanch as you eye the impressive, sleek storefront. “We’re sure I can’t just get married in some jeans and nice shirt, right?”

“Absolutely not!” Kitty declares.

You’d invited her along –in addition to Neena, Ellie, Yukio, and Alex and Illyana, who’d teleported over from Russia at your invitation—upon realizing the teen had a strong grasp on fashion and style. You’d been certain that her know-how with the industry would come in handy—

But right now, since she’s currently marching you into the dress store, you’re wondering if your choice is going to bite you in the ass or not.

The inside of the store is just as intimidating as the outside, if not more so. The attendants are all dressed and styled impeccably, and the perfectly polished floor gleams under the overhead lights.

You get set up with one of the attendants and go through what you want –something you can move in, something you don’t have to worry about your tits falling out of, something reasonably comfortable—and then Kitty and the attendant go back and forth for at least ten minutes about different cuts and fabrics that would suit you before the attendant takes you back to a dressing room and grabs a few different dresses in your size and price range.

The first one flat out doesn’t fit. You don’t even bother to walk out and show the others, since the attendant can’t even get it around your hips properly.

“I thought this was in my size,” you lament as she puts the dress back in its protective bag.

“Different designers and cuts lead to size fluctuation,” she reassures you as she reaches for the second dress. “I think this one will suit you better.”

The second dress does fit –small victories.

You eye your reflection, taking in the dress and how it sits on you. “It’s alright. What do you think?”

“I think it flatters your shoulders and chest pretty well,” the attendant says. “Let’s show everyone else.”

Kitty, however, naysays it as soon as you walk out of the dressing room. “Nope. Absolutely not. No way.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Do I look that bad?”

“You’re not smiling,” Kitty says, as though it’s the most important thing in the world. “Your wedding dress should at least make you smile.”

“I think it fits her fine,” Yukio comments as she looks you over.

“It fits her just fine, but this is her _wedding dress_,” Kitty fires back. “She should feel like a princess that’s walking on air. She should be glowing from the inside out because she feels completely and utterly confident in it. She should be smiling like she just got a coupon for an entire free cake from the grocery store and it’s being presented to her by a Golden Retriever and Anne Hathaway.” She waves her hand at you, shooing you back towards the dressing room. “That’s not it. Go try on another one.”

And so it goes. You try on dress after dress, all of which are perfectly stylish and fit you well enough, but none of which make you feel like you’re “dazzling,” or “sublime,” or any of the other words Kitty throws out.

“This is her wedding,” Ellie snaps when Kitty turns down yet another gown. “You can’t call all the shots!”

“I’m not,” Kitty argues. “But it’s clear she’s not feeling any of them. She shouldn’t get married in a dress she doesn’t absolutely love!”

“Yeah, but if you keep making her doubt every dress she comes out in, she’s not going to love _any_ of them!”

“I’m _not_—”

Illyana gently squeezes Kitty’s hand before she can get into an argument with Ellie. “Easy, _Katya_. You have been… dominating.”

“I’m a Leo,” Kitty says as she tosses her hair. “I’m naturally charismatic.”

Ellie mutters something to Yukio that makes the other girl snort and clap a hand over her mouth.

“How about only a few more,” Alexandra speaks up, quelling the disagreement. “And then we can go for lunch and head home. No sense in going all day.”

“We should be fine,” Neena says as you turn to head back to the dressing room. “I’ve got a good feeling about this next dress.”

The attendant steps out of the dressing room after she unzips you. “I’ll be right back; I’m going to get a different dress. I’ve got something in mind now that I’ve seen which styles you gravitate towards and which you don’t.” She comes back a couple minutes later, dress in hand, and helps you get into it and—

_Oh_.

The attendant grins when you beam. “There we go. I think this one’s our winner. Let’s go show everyone else.”

Kitty immediately cheers when you walk out. “Yes!” She stands up and claps her hands, completely uncaring –and probably oblivious to—the glances she garners. “That’s it! That’s the one!”

Ellie smiles, nodding grudgingly. “Yeah. That one’s it.”

You grin as you twirl around, soaking in everyone else’s coos of delight and approval. _Dress: done_.

* * *

“We really should aim for a house,” you say as you scan yet another sample lease agreement. “Most of the apartments we want don’t even rent to mutants.”

You and Piotr are set up in the dining room, papers strewn across the table top as you work out your future living arrangements. Piotr’s working on calculating out various financial aspects of the whole ‘find a new place’ prospect, while you’re scanning different lease agreements and mortgage deals for unexpected catches. Neither of you want to live in the mansion full time once you’re married; you want privacy from everyone else, a space you can both totally customize—

But that means dealing with a lot of money and middlemen, which is generally where this whole thing is _going to shit_.

“We may have problem,” Piotr mumbles has he checks a set of figures on his calculator. “Buying house is not exactly cheap –and we _cannot_ afford to _not_ do things completely above board.”

You nod. “No, I agree. My finances are definitely out since I can’t really account where they’re coming from.”

“Why do you need to account where your finances are coming from?” Nathan asks as he pokes his head into the dining room. He takes a sip from his mug of coffee. “Is there some sort of legal hang up with the marriage?”

You shake your head. “Finding a place to live. It’s all shaping up to be a big fat mess.”

“Then don’t find a place just yet,” Nathan says with a casual shrug. “Look, the two of you are already planning and investing in a wedding. Get that off your plate, spend some time saving and making sure you won’t get dicked over legally, and then get a place when you don’t have a wedding staring you down.”

Piotr quirks his mouth to the side as he looks over at you. “It is not bad idea.”

“Fine by me,” you say as you start stacking up the sea of papers. “I’m happy to have one less thing to do.”

* * *

Neena’s mouth curves into a smirk. “So… what do you need me for?”

“I’m trying to pick out the flowers for my wedding stuff,” you say, only half-succeeding in not sounding completely and utterly desperate.

“And you’re hoping that my lucky powers will help you make a choice?” she surmises. She chuckles when you shoot her a fully desperate look and nods at the laptop. “Go for it. I want to see if it works.”

* * *

Everything comes to a stop when you’re kidnapped –and stays stopped even after you’re rescued.

Piotr merely kisses your forehead whenever you worry over the lack of progress on the wedding planning and tells you that your only priority is getting and feeling better.

Regardless of your marital status or planning progress, you’re home. That’s all that really matters.

* * *

“Do you have anything planned for your honeymoon yet?” your uncle asks one morning.

You and Piotr both blink simultaneously.

“We had discussed a few options,” Piotr says slowly after exchanging a glance with you. “But we had not made any final decisions or reservations as of yet.”

“If it’s alright with you two, I’d like to cover your honeymoon costs,” your uncle offers, fingers drumming restlessly against his coffee mug. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make the wedding because of everything… and… yeah. I’d like to do that for you two.”

“Okay,” you say after exchanging a long look with Piotr. “Thank you. We really appreciate it.”

The corner of your uncle’s mouth turns up in a sad smile, and he quickly takes a sip of his coffee before it can turn into a frown. “Obviously, you two can always tell me where you want to go and I’ll make it happen, but… I was thinking maybe a trip to Disneyworld?”

You grin –you’ve never been to Disneyworld, and it honestly sounds like fun—but Piotr’s eyes go wider than a set of saucers and he sucks in a breath like a kid seeing all their presents under the tree on Christmas day.

Your uncle chuckles. “I take it Disneyworld is a good idea?”

You nod, smiling, as you watch Piotr grin broadly at the prospect of visiting the famed park. “I’d call it a plan.”

* * *

There’s only one upside to the whole kidnapping debacle with your parents: you already have lawyers on retainer when you need to change your name and add Piotr to the restraining order, since he’ll be your spouse and you don’t want anyone from your past getting any closer to him than they would you.

Matt, Foggy, and Karen –as with the restraining order situation—are a dream to work with. They keep everything straightforward and professional (and make sure no uppity license issuers try to deny the two of you any of the paperwork just because you’re mutants).

There is, though, something extra special about seeing your name change from Y/N L/N to Y/N Rasputin. Even though the ceremony still needs to happen, you’re legally bound to each other.

You grin at Piotr as you leave the courthouse. “Want to head back and start the honeymoon early?”

He laughs and grins back. “Why not.”

* * *

“What are we going to do for rings?” you ask one night, while you’re snuggled up next to Piotr in bed. It’s the middle of fall, which means you’re finally feeling chilled at night if you’re not taking full advantage of your fiancé’s extra warmth.

Not that he’s complaining, mind you.

“I mean, it probably won’t be too hard to find something for me,” you continue, reaching over to pick up one of Piotr’s hands. “But you’ve got some serious mitts, hon. That, and I don’t know if we can get a ring that’ll take you armoring up.”

“I have been thinking about this,” Piotr says, chuckling as you play with his fingers. “I would still like ring of my own, even if I have to get it fixed or replaced every now and then… but I was also thinking of getting tattoo, so I have a ‘ring’ even if I am not wearing one.”

“I mean, you can do that if you want,” you say with a shrug. “It’s on the finger, though, so it’s going to hurt more. And it’ll fade faster.”

“I do not mind pain,” Piotr says as he pulls your closer to him so he can kiss you. “And I would not want something complex, nor would I mind having to touch it up from time to time.”

“Alright.” You kiss his cheek, then giggle and ruffle his hair playfully. “Look at you, getting a tattoo! You’re becoming quite the rebel, mister!”

“You already knew I wanted to get work done.”

You press your finger against his lips briefly before going back to playing with his hair. “Shush. Let me have my moment.”

Piotr chuckles and catches your hand before you can make an absolute mess of his hair. “It would seem you have rubbed off on me, _myshka_.”

“I would hope so.” You grin, then teasingly rock your hips against his thigh. “I also like to rub on you, if you know what I mean.”

Piotr rolls his eyes, but then he’s kissing you and positioning the two of you so you’re on your back and he’s braced on his arms above you, and—

Yeah, you’re rubbing off –and on—him alright.

* * *

“I’m making the questions hard. You’ve known me for _how long now_? I can’t just lob you a bunch of slowballs.”

Piotr snorts and pauses to kiss the top of your head as the two of stroll about the Institute’s sprawling grounds. “Do what you must, _myshka_.”

“You better get them right,” you tease him further, grinning up at him. “It’s gonna look bad if we’re getting married and you don’t even know me.”

Piotr winks at you. “Worry not, _dorogoy_. I am confident in my success.”

“Good. Also, just a heads up, I’m pretty sure Mikhail’s gonna try to get _at least_ five hundred dollars out of you for the payment part of it.” You giggle when your fiancé rolls his eyes and groans and squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Relax, babe. Your mom put a stop to it before he got too far with the concept.” When Piotr doesn’t stop grumbling under his breath, you tug on his hand and flash him a dazzling smile. “Hey. We’re gonna be married in two months.”

Piotr grins back, equally as bright. “That we are.”

You roll up onto the tips of your toes as he bends down to kiss you—

It’s just as wonderful as every other time you’ve kissed him.

Life is going to be amazing.


End file.
